


When In Rome...

by Miya_Morana



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha's genuine smile wakes up something in him, something that says want and mine. Richard tries very hard to ignore it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When In Rome...

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010 for cageyklio, who won me at the Sweet Charity auction. Beta-ed by the wonderful morganoconner, all remaining mistakes are mine.

The whole thing starts in Rome, but to be fair, it had been coming for a while. They hit it off from the start, sharing jokes and laughs, but also more meaningful conversations about life, the universe and, more often than he'd care to admit, how envious Richard was of the somehow both very close and amazingly free relationship Misha and his wife had. The two men had rapidly become very good friends, keeping in touch via e-mails and long phone calls.

In Rome, something changes. The _Jus In Bello_ Con had been crazy and epic, and Richard's still amazed at the sheer amount of orange underwear _his_ fans brought Misha. It's kind of exhilarating to know he has some kind of power over the actions of so many people. So it's a little bit giddy that he starts the Roman holiday organized by the Con.

One more day with Misha, outside of the hustle and bustle of the Con, in one of the most interesting city of the whole world. Granted, there are some fans with them, but after the first hour they calm down a bit and the group can actually focus on what the guide is telling them and on the beautiful places they're visiting. Actually, these people form a nice and interesting group, and Richard finds himself chatting with some of them more than he thought he would, talking about cameras, photo angles, lighting...

But most of the time, he's laughing with Misha. The man is trying to keep his crazy, devil-may-care public persona up, which is hilarious, especially when you know where to look for Misha's real reactions and thoughts. And Richard knows. He knows how to spot the soft wrinkling around Misha's eyes that betray his amusement, how his chin goes slightly up when he's annoyed, how he plays with his wedding band when he's nervous and how, if something catches him by surprise, his nostrils betray his otherwise unfazed face, going wide. Richard can also spot Misha's genuine smile, because that smile wakes up something in him, something that says _want_ and _mine_. Richard tries very hard to ignore it.

Misha isn't really helping, however. He seems to be touching Richard at every occasion: a shoulder pressing against him, a hand brushing his, when it isn't an arm thrown around Richard's shoulders when there's sitting next to each other in the little _trattoria_ where they're having lunch. This physical contact thing is new, and kind of unexpected as far as Richard's concerned, but it's nice. Thankfully, no one else seems to be noticing anything unusual, distracted that they are by Misha's crazy stories and the loud and animated talking of their Italian guide.

It's unusually warm for early April, the sun shining down on them as they begin the visit the ruins of an ancient Roman house. By the time they're done, Misha is insisting the nice weather warrants Italian ice cream and most of the fans are agreeing with him. So they stop in a small ice cream shop, and Misha spends ten minutes deciding what unexpected flavor to order. He settles on olive oil (and really, it _exists_?), and as soon as they are out he start licking his ice cream in a way that should be illegal, all long swipes of tongue and soft slurping noises.

Some of the girls are giggling, but thankfully they can't take any pictures of Misha, their own hands busy holding ice cream cones. For some reason, Richard doesn't want everyone on the Internet getting to see Misha like that. The bastard appears to be doing this on purpose, judging by the way he waggles his eyebrows at the girls. But then he shoots a look at Richard, just for a second, and Richard can't have read that right, because he would swear there was something _seductive_ in those eyes.

There's a streak of white, melted ice cream on Misha's chin, and Richard is just about to point it out when one of the fans comes up to him with a napkin. Misha, always the gentleman, thanks her and takes the napkin from her hand. The woman blushes deeply as their fingers touch, and Richard takes a deep breath. No, pushing one of the fans away from the other actor just because she blushed is not an appropriate behavior, he tells himself firmly.

***

When they finally get back to the hotel it's almost five. They say goodbye to the fans and their guide, pose for a few last pictures before they can finally escape to one of the elevators. As the doors close, Richard lets out a long exhale of relief.

"You already tired, old man?" Misha huffs, amused, as he throws his arm around Richard's shoulder. 

Richard looks up at him, annoyed. Misha's only four years younger than Richard, he has no right to old-man him.

"Only of the never-ending giggling," he replies, leaning against Misha's warm length. His own arm ends up wound around Misha's waist somehow as they start bantering softly. Misha's breathing in Richard's neck, and when Richard turns his head to offer a sarcastic remark on Misha's inability to eat ice cream with decency he's only half-surprised to find the other man's mouth so close to his.

There's that look on Misha's face again, that look that's all teasing and seduction, and Richard's words get stuck in his throat as a wave of _want_ washes through him. He turns just a little bit more, tentatively presses their lips together, like he's asking if he's really allowed to do this, to take what he wants.

Misha smiles triumphantly against Richard's mouth before he kisses back, lips moving and tongue teasing, seeking entrance. Richard growls low in his throat and grabs Misha's jacket as he deepens the kiss, makes it dirty, almost rough in his haste to taste Misha's sinful mouth.

The hallway's thankfully empty when the doors open. They stumble out of the elevator, Richard dragging Misha by his jacket. Their lips barely part now and then as they make their way to Richard's room.

Misha kisses like he does everything, with enthusiasm and passion, like nothing else in the entire world exists. Richard is more greedy, using tongue and teeth to worry Misha's lips, make them red and flushed and _his_. Once the door of the room closes behind them, Richard shoves the taller man against it. One of his hands slides in Misha's hair, grabs it fiercely while the other one starts unbuttoning his shirt, deft fingers brushing against every bit of newly exposed skin.

"Richard..." Misha moans when the older man abandons his mouth to devour his throat instead, and Richard feels a spark of triumph as he hears how wrecked Misha sounds. "Richard, are you sure...?"

Richard groans, presses his hips against Misha's, rubbing their denim-clad erections together. He bites down where Misha's shoulder and neck meet and Misha bucks up against him with a strangled, surprised noise that goes directly to Richard's cock. He undoes the last button of Misha's shirt and drags it out of the man pants, then drags his nails against the firm stomach.

"Yes I'm sure," he growls against Misha's collar bone. "I want you. I'm gonna take you right here, right now, Collins, and you're gonna beg for it."

Misha makes some agreeing noise and starts pulling at Richard's clothing. They fumble a bit as they get rid of jackets, shirts, pants, shoes and socks, all the while touch, stroking, kissing and licking each other's skin. Richard's breath catches when he finds out Misha spent the whole day commando.

"Don't you have dozens of underwear in your bedroom?" he smirks, and Misha laughs, that sexy, honest laughter of his.

"I do intend on washing them before trying any of these on," he says, hooking his fingers into Richard's shorts, teasingly not pulling them down. Richard puts a hand on one of Misha's, pushes it inside his shorts and gasps when the long fingers wrap around his erection.

"That'll make an interesting view," he breathes, "you putting all these undies to dry on a line in your backyard." Misha's thumb swipes the head of his cock and Richard pushes his shorts out of the way. They fall in a heap of black fabric at his feet.

"I'll take a picture for you," Misha teases before licking Richard's neck all the way up to his ear.

Richard shoves Misha back against the door, pins him there, and kisses him ferociously until Misha's whimpering, rubbing his own erection against Richard's hip. When they part lips, Misha looks down at him with a hunger and an urgency the other actor is proud to be responsible for.

"Turn around and spread you legs, Collins," he growls, and Misha bites Richard's lower lip before obeying.

Richard admires the view before him. Misha's hands are pressed flat on the hotel room door, the left side of his face resting against the wood. His legs are just spread enough to put his delicious ass at the level of Richard's crotch. He looks like Temptation made flesh.

With a grin, Richard slaps one cheek of Misha's ass, earning a surprised groan in answer. He then kneels down to kiss the red, angry mark better, an attention Misha seems to appreciate, judging by the noises he's making.

Richard's tongue slides lower, further, until he's lapping at Misha's entrance, teasing the ring of muscles with the tip of his tongue. Misha whimpers, pushes down needily against Richard's face. Richard smiles, grabs Misha's cheeks and spreads them apart, thumbnails digging into the man's entrance to open it. When he slides his tongue inside of Misha the younger man makes a noise that has Richard's cock twitching and leaking precome.

Also, if anyone happens to be in the hallway right now, there's no way they didn't hear _that_. Heck, Misha's so loud it's possible the entire floor can hear him.

Lube. They need lube.

"Don't move," he commands as he gets back on his feet, and he watches Misha nod.

"Hurry." It's almost a whisper, all need and lust and want, and Richard's responsible for doing this to Misha. 

Richard almost runs to his bedside table, digs into the mess in the top drawer until he finds the small bottle of lube he usually uses when jerking off and a pack of condoms. He opens one, puts it on quickly so they don't waste any more time, and hastily goes back to Misha.

Who hasn't moved except for twisting his neck enough to watch him, and fuck does he look hot like that, all debauched and open and waiting.

Richard plasters himself against that strong back, forces another breathtaking kiss on Misha. He then starts biting and licking Misha's spine as he uncaps the lube, coats his fingers. He slides one past the ring of muscles and inside Misha and sucks on Misha's neck, marking him as _his_.

He stretches Misha open with two, three fingers, until Misha growls. "Enough! Fuck me already!"

Richard quickly lubes himself and lets the bottle roll on the floor. He grabs Misha's hips, presses the head of his dick against the slippery hole and pushes in, slowly. Misha's so tight and warm and fucking _perfect_ around him that Richard has to remind himself to breath. When he's all the way inside he pauses, gives the other man some time to adjust.

But Misha, it seems, doesn't _need_ time to adjust. He squeezes his muscles around Richard's cock, and that's it, Richard can't hold back. He starts pounding into Misha, drawing groans and moans out of him.

"So good, Misha... So tight... Been wanting you for so long," Richard breathes in Misha's neck.

One of Richard's hands grabs both of Mishas, pinning them hard against the wooden door as he pushes in and out of him. Their fingernails scratch the paint. Richard's other hand slides around Misha's waist to wrap around his dick.

This whole thing is hard and rough, almost animalistic. They groan and growl, Richard keeps sucking and biting on Misha's flesh. His knuckles knock on the door as he jerks the younger man off. He can see Misha's so close, so damn close, so he twists his wrist _just so_ , and Misha moans Richard's name, loud, as he comes all over the door and his co-worker's hand.

Misha's body tenses up, tightens around Richard's cock, and Richard tips over the edge, buried deep inside Misha. 

They both drift down on the floor afterwards, panting and a little bit dazed. They're sitting on their discarded clothes, backs against the door or the wall. Richard's hair sticks up in every direction and Misha... Misha's covered in hickies and biting marks. He almost looks like he was maimed by a wild animal, and Richard can't find it in him to be sorry. He likes that he's marked Misha like this.

Misha grins at him, the kind of smile you'd expect to see on someone who's completely high. Richard guesses he's high on endorphins. He can't help but smile back.

"Next time, Speight," Misha breathes, still panting slightly. "Next time, can we make it to the bed?"

Richard chuckles. "Why, you feeling too old for wall sex, Misha?"

He totally didn't deserve that punch in the arm.


End file.
